


Dean Could Never Be The Pizza Man

by aphyrid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also everyone I like is still alive because I said so thanks bye, Cas Plays Minecraft, Dean Ruins Dinner Twice, Destiel - Freeform, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Jack's Dad, Everyone is Happy Because I Said So, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Team Freewill 2.0, The Team Has a Good Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphyrid/pseuds/aphyrid
Summary: Team Freewill 2.0 attempts to spend an evening together, eating dinner and watching movies. But with Dean's inability to get anything on the table successfully, what will they eat? And what happens when Sam catches Dean enjoying a sappy romantic movie? This thriller will keep you on the edge of your seat.But really, we're all upset about the finale still and this is just an easy, domestic fic with the boys having a semi-quiet night in.
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Dean Could Never Be The Pizza Man

“I must admit, this game _is_ quite relaxing.” Castiel admitted into his phone, which was cradled in between his cheek and his shoulder. His fingers coaxed out _tick, tick_ ’s from his keyboard as he explored the realm in front of him. Jack smiled from the other side of the phone.

“I knew you’d like it. Claire let me watch her play while Jody and Sam were interviewing the sheriff. I found it fun and…calming. I like how aptly named it is. You can mine _and_ craft.” Jack responded with his signature, upbeat tone. He was shuffling through a newspaper Sam had thrown into the car after paying for a refuel at the gas station they were currently stopped at. Sam, at the telltale click of the nozzle, shook as much remaining gas as he could into the tank before returning the pump and stepping back into the car. He knew better than to ever return baby with anything less than the tank three-quarters [3/4] full.

“Speaking of the case, how’d it go? How’s Jody doing?” The older angel inquired as he explored the sunflower field. He was, of course, on the search for another family of bees to adopt into his in-world bee sanctuary.

"Oh, it went well! Sam was right, just a ghost. Jody is well. She said that Claire and Kaia are hunting together a lot, so the house is ‘finally quiet.’” Jack folded the newspaper back up and slipped it into the glovebox in front of him. Sam smirked at the overheard conversation from the driver’s side.

Sam held out his hand towards Jack, who got the signal and handed Sam the phone.

“Hey, Cas. How’s it hangin’?” Sam asked, maneuvering the wheel with his one free hand.

“Not much is happening here. I’m playing this game that Jack recommended to me. I must say I’ve grown quite fond it. I have adopted a cat.” He smiled. “Oh, Dean is getting pizza so picking up dinner isn’t necessary.”

“Alright, sounds good. Tell him to save a few slices for us.” Sam half-joked. “Hey, Cas, I’m getting ready to get on the highway, so I’ll hand you back to Jack. I’ll see you later.” Jack took the phone and made his own goodbye before hanging up and reaching forward to turn up the radio a few notches. Sam had put on a tape of his favorite podcasts; it was about the history of Jamestown and the disappearance of its citizens. With the steady, monotone voice of the narrator playing through the radio, Jack relaxed into the seat and turned his attention to the trees and fields zooming by the window.

At the bunker, Castiel returned his phone to one of the many pockets he had in one of the many layers he decorated his vessel with. He was just getting back into his rhythm when the loud, heavy bang of the bunker’s reinforced steel door alerted him to Dean being home. He closed the laptop and sat it on the table in front of him, standing to assist Dean with setting up dinner. He had hardly made it to the front room when he heard Dean yell.

“Fuck! Son of a bitch!” Dean swore, harmonizing with the steady thumping of his body down the bunker stairs.

Cas’s face dropped and he rushed to the man’s side. Dean and the pizza were strewn across the floor. He was flat on his back, covered in cheese and sauce, groaning in pain.

“Dean,” Castiel exclaimed, in his signature, gruff tone, “Are you alright?” He walked over and offered a hand to the man, which he took. Dean slowly stood up, moving his hands to brace his back after reaching his feet. Castiel looked to him in concern, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m more worried about dinner,” He gestured to the mess around them, “Damn! That’s my favorite pizza place, too.” He huffed.

Castiel raised his hand and snapped his fingers, disappearing the mess around them. Dean shrugged, satisfied with at least one half of the problem being gone.

“Come, let me fix your back.” Castiel offered, reaching out to him. Dean raised a hand to stop him, and Castiel frowned.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine. Besides, maybe next time I’ll remember to look where I walk.” Dean rubbed the now sore muscles on his lower back before making his way into the kitchen to throw something frozen in the oven. Castiel wasn’t far behind, nagging him as they walked.

“You are the most stubborn man I’ve ever met, Dean Winchester.” Castiel scolded, leaning against the island while Dean opened the freezer door and peered inside.

The freezer was a clear portrayal of the differences within the household. Intermixed with Dean and Jacks ice cream, pizza, instant meals, and taquitos were Sam’s frozen fruits, mixed vegetables, and soup stock. Dean gagged dramatically as he shoved aside a bulk bag of kale to reveal their stash of oven-ready pizza. He grabbed a few of the meat lovers and sat them on the counter to preheat the oven. As he waited, Dean swung open the fridge to grab a beer. The fridge was empty compared to the freezer. Even Sam usually strayed from buying fresh, as they never knew when they would have a call to action, leaving the bunker for up to a week and coming back to rotten, soggy vegetables and grey meat. Their hunters budget, even with the fake cards, couldn’t justify that level of waste.

Dean didn’t have to do much looking for his drink, as it was the most abundant product there. He grabbed one, and popped the cap off, tossing it into the garbage. He took a swig as the preheating finished, and popped a total of four pizzas in at once, all that could fit. At the sight of the excess cheese, he had a brief flashback to his time as being lactose intolerant, and shuddered at the thought. He brushed off the haunting memory with another sip and turned his attention to the angel.

“So, what’s the word, Cas?” Dean asked, mimicking Castiel’s position against the counter opposite him. His face screwed up in confusion.

“What? What word?” He cocked his head at the unusual question. Dean sighed, choosing not to answer. Rather, he ushered him back towards the living room, where Dean could rest his aching back.

Cas sat down and relaxed onto the sofa with his game once again, smiling softly at the simple bee sanctuary he had created.

“What’cha doin’, Cas?” He asked genuinely. There was a short list of things on this Earth that Dean truly cared about, and near the top was anything surrounding the trenchcoat angel with the softest brown eyes and the sweetest smile on Heaven, Hell, or otherwise.

“It’s called Minecraft. Jack said I would like it.” Castiel looked up and smiled, “He was right.”

Dean made a face, never having enjoyed, or, rather, never having tried to enjoy anything but the most violent video games he could get his hands on. Usually, it was either slipped into his coat while the cashier was distracted or given to him as a guilt gift from his father after any particularly bad night.

He grabbed the remote and switched on the TV, turning the channel until he found the nights football game. The home team was down by 3, but they were only halfway into the game, so there was plenty of time to rectify the score. He settled into his seat and let the day wash out of his mind. The sound of Cas’s game playing softly in the background contrasted the gruff narration of every move and throw on the flatscreen. They hardly noticed the other’s noise, however, as both were too involved in their respective leisure.

The evening was fairly calm, save for Dean’s occasional outburst at the screen, yelling about the ref’s incompetence or the quarterback’s fumble. Cas would glance up every time with soft concern written on his face, but would just as quickly return his attention when he was reminded of the source of Dean’s upset.

Hours passed like minutes, and soon the game was down to the wire, the teams were tied, and Cas was being chased by a creeper. The angel was seriously regretting leaving his cat locked inside his virtual cabin. Unbeknownst to the pair, Sam and Jack were arriving home from long drive. The distracted men both were leaned forward, fully entranced by the screens. The angel was button smashing in a desperate attempt to protect his farm, and Dean, under his breath, pleaded with the TV, “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, please just a few more yards, c’mon.”

Sam and Jack thudded down the steps, safely, without falling, and waltzed into the living room, talking and laughing with the other as they did.

“Hey, guys. What’s up?” Jack asked, walking towards the couch and sitting a few spots away from Cas. He crossed his legs on the couch, pulling and pushing his knees with his hands, rocking and burning off some of the excess energy he still somehow had.

“Sh sh sh sh sh,” Dean hushed, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume, clutching his beer like a stress ball. Sam sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. He never had gotten into football like Dean had, but, of course, it was another one of the things that he and John had shared in the past, so it made sense. Like his car, Dean held tightly to his Dad’s old favorites, while Sam chose a little more distance.

The room stilled as the seconds ticked down:

Five:

They were still yards away from the goal. Dean’s eyes went wide.

Four:

The center was closing in on the tailback. Dean brought his fingernail to his teeth.

Three:

The quarterback made a last-ditch throw. Dean pressed the bottle between his thighs.

Two:

The ball flew through the air, closing in on wide receiver. Dean finished chewing off the last of his nails.

One,

The ball made contact with the stumbling receiver. Dean moved on to chewing on his fingers.

BZZZT, the buzzer squalled, just as the ball entered the endzone. The home team won by six points.

Dean jumped up from the seat, whooping and hollering at the victory. He did his own touchdown dance as the rest of the boys looked on in amusement. His excitement was cut short when Dean’s body reminded him of his earlier fall, and he quickly ceased his celebration.

“Man!” Dean exclaimed as he fell back into his seat, “you really missed a good game, Sammy. Woo.” He exhaled, heart still racing with adrenaline.

“Yeah, I don’t know how I’ll ever recover.” Sam smirked, sharing a glance with Cas, who shared his general neutrality towards football. The first time Dean made him watch a game, he had called the game confusing, and asked so many questions that he made Castiel take a vow of silence and hold all questions until the game was over. The question portion, afterwards, had lasted a good hour and a half. Dean never asked him to watch the game again.

“What’d you do to your back, man? Cas forget to take it easy on you?” Sam teased, never missing an opportunity to bully his brother.

“What? No!” Dean scoffed, shooting his brother in irritated look. “And don’t be jealous just because you’re a chronic virgin and I happened to get all the sex appeal, Sammy.” The angel paused his game to elaborate on Dean’s condition but was interrupted by the youngest of the hunters.

“Does anybody else smell something burning?” Jack complained, turning his nose up and sniffing the air. His face screwed up in disgust he looked around for an answer. Dean and Cas locked wide eyes, exclaiming, in unison: “The pizza!”

Dean swore under his breath and rushed into the kitchen, grunting when he came to his feet. The three boys followed him, standing in the doorway as Dean pulled all four smoking, black pizzas out of the oven and set them on the counter.

“I thought you were getting carryout?” Sam mused as he leaned against the doorframe.

“He did,” Cas answered, sighing heavily, “But Dean fell down the stairs after picking it up, as he can’t see through a stack of pizzas, five [5] boxes high.

Dean waved his gloved hand in the air, trying to dissipate the smoke. Sam lurched forward, springing towards the fire alarm and dismantling it, taking out the large battery before the smoke could trigger the sprinkler system.

“Thanks.” Dean huffed, tossing the gloves onto the stove and running a hand through his hair, “I think we’ll just have sandwiches for dinner.” He announced, already digging around in the cabinets for ingredients.

“So, who’s having what?” Dean offered. He grabbed a butter knife, which Sam snatched out of his hands.

“No way, man. You’ve ruined two [2] attempts at dinner already, I’m handling this one.” Dean rolled his eyes in response.

“How could anyone possibly mess up a sandwich,” He started, but quickly continued as he saw Sam open his mouth to respond. “Don’t answer that.” Sam pursed his lips, looking at the charcoal pizza pointedly.

“Whatever, just don’t put lettuce or kale or any of that garbage on mine.” Dean conceded, throwing up his hands and grabbing another beer. He started back to living room, smiling as he heard Jack ask if he could have a candy bar for dinner. Sam began to chastise him, and Dean walked faster.

Dean reached his destination and popped in one of the many classics he had acquired. It was a very old western, featuring the great John Wayne. The title screen came up as the rest of the gang came in with their modest dinner, Sam carrying his own and his brothers. He handed Dean a classic BLT, minus the L and the T, add extra B. Though Sam wanted to complain about Dean’s staple sandwich, he knew it would be to no avail. So he elected to stay quiet it, just this once.

The boys all settled into their usual spots as Dean pressed play. Sam and Jack had their own respective recliners, while Dean and Castiel shared the loveseat.

Dean, despite many of Sam’s efforts to discourage the behavior, ate like an animal, stuffing bite after bite into his mouth and hardly chewing between swallows. He finished his dinner first, by a landslide. The other finished at relatively the same time as one another, all placing their empty plates on the small coffee table that sat between the couch and the TV.

The room was soon filled with southern drawl and gunshots, interspersed with the occasional question from Jack, which Dean answered enthusiastically. Unlike football, westerns were his and his alone. He had a love for the genre that had come from a place of his own pure obsession and admiration, making it that much more special than his hand-me-down interests from his father. Even Sam didn’t mind the old-timey movies all that much. They held a charm to them, and they showed a small glimpse into a history that seemed so far away, even if it was greatly exaggerated.

The movie continued for an hour and a half before Sam slowly stood and stretched, announcing that he was going to turn in early, having been exhausted during the earlier mission. Jack decided to do the same, imitating the way Sam yawned and strained. The Nephilim only needed a few hours of sleep, but he did enjoy the short time he could spend in bed. He had begun keeping a dream journal, as well, as it frustrated him that he would often forget the stories that played in his head before he could tell his housemates about them.

“Don’t stay up too late, guys.” Sam called as he walked down the hallway towards his room.

“Yes, Sam says sleep is essential for a healthy body.” Jack continued proudly. He beamed as if he had just shared a government guarded secret that no human had ever been told. Castiel and Dean wished him goodnight as he left the two alone to finish the movie.

Dean looked at Cas. Cas looked at Dean. They looked at each other, speaking silently through their shared gaze. Dean smirked.

“You thinking what I’m thinking, angel?” Dean asked, his voice low, as if anyone could hear them. Cas smiled and nodded, scooting closer to the man, until their sides were flush against each other’s. Dean suddenly shot forward and grabbed the remote, then quickly reclaiming his spot on the cushion.

He almost dropped the remote in his excitement. Dean turned off the western, and, after glancing at the door to make sure they were really alone, turned on none other than The Notebook. A cheesy, girly, indulgent romance that Cas had caught him watching once before when they man wrongly thought he was alone. Dean, in exchange for Castiel’s silence on his guilty pleasure, offered money, to let him drive baby, anything he could think of to keep the secret from making its way the world. The world mainly being Sam. Castiel of course couldn’t care less that he watched such content, but promised to never mention it to anyone else. But, on rare nights when the two were alone, rather on accident or when they snuck away to enjoy each other’s company, they often put on some sort of chick-flick or romantic comedy. They had yet to be caught, thanks to Deans increased paranoia.

The movie started off the way it always did, with a view of the sunset and a list of the movie’s contributors. Castiel shifted to be more comfortable, curling up against Dean’s large frame and letting out a soft sigh. Dean leaned down and planted a kiss atop the angel’s head, moving his hand to loop around Cas’s back, laying his hand over the other’s and intertwining their fingers. He stroked the calloused, worn hand with his thumb, letting his body relax fully into the couch and into Castiel.

The movie hadn’t played more than 20 minutes into the movie before Dean was fast asleep. Cas listened to the man’s heart beating steadily in his chest, breathing in unison with Dean. Feeling the rise and fall of his chest. He looked up at the man. His face was so soft and peaceful when he was asleep.

‘ _Like a bear._ ’ Cas thought, smiling to himself.

“Hey, sorry, I forgot to grab my phone before I-“ Sam started, cutting himself off as he noticed his brothers comatose state.

Castiel held a finger to his lips, pointing a finger towards the sleeping Dean. Sam nodded, and tiptoed over to his chair where his phone lay forgotten. As he picked up the device and raised his eyes, he noticed the new movie that was playing in front of them. He quirked a brow, and looked at Cas, then to Dean, then back to Cas.

Sam pointed at the screen squinted in silent inquiry, then eyed Dean. Cas nodded hesitantly. He pinched his thumb and index together and brought the fingers to his lips, dragging them across. Zip it, he signaled. Sam copied the motion, sealing the pact between them. He raised his hands in surrender and retreated back to his room, leaving no trace of his reentry.

Castiel sighed.

‘ _There are too many secrets to keep track of in this family._ ’

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, leave a comment and tell me what you think!


End file.
